Try Again
by die2901
Summary: 'Guys, I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but I feel a bit off about all of this. It's not that I don't want be here, I'm happy to see you and talk to you, without some sort of impending threat hanging above our heads. But it's like we've been sent on a mission without any information. Just go out there and.. ' 'Try again.'
1. Chapter 1 - This is my dream

**Ch 01 - This is my dream!**

11-year old Draco Malfoy opened his eyes and the first thing he noticed was the light pouring in his room. His room in the Manor.

'Hm.' He had an odd feeling, like he was forgetting something important. He knew this was to be an important day, but could not figure out why. He got his wand from under the pillow and performed the simple charm for finding out today's date. He should not have had access to his wand, let alone use it - he knew that, of course. But there were more benefits to being a Malfoy than just wealth, and one of those benefits was the removal of tracking charm on his wand.

In slightly glowing letters, the date appeared in front of his eyes: 'September 1st, 1991'.

Of course! He was supposed to start Hogwarts today! Only he knew how much he had dreamed about this day (okay, maybe Father had an inkling about it, too), about the moment the Sorting Hat would yell 'Slytherin!', about eating all the sweets he wanted for dessert and spending time with all his Pureblooded friends... So, that explained the excited part of himself. Then, what about the uneasy part? That one part of his brain that was screaming at him that he wasn't supposed to be here? That there was something missing? That..

'Oh..', and his stomach sunk as he remembered. Yes, he definitely wasn't supposed to be here.

'Fuck it. I'll enjoy this as much as I can', he thought as he clambered out of bed and made his way to the ensuite.

* * *

Hermione Granger felt herself waking up but refused to open her eyes. She was comfortable and at peace and thought she deserved a lie-in. She stayed like that, bundled up in blankets and pillows until a familiar voice came from the hallway, accompanied by the soft knock on her door.

'Hermione, dear? You should get into the bathroom soon, the train leaves in two hours and there's a bit of a drive into town and to the station.'

She was thinking of nothing in particular, letting her thoughts wander about the things and people she loved when that voice had broken the silence. Everything came to an abrupt halt, including her breathing, and went into overdrive a few seconds later.

'Train? What train?' She finally opened her eyes and took in her surroundings. She was in her parent's house, in her own room. It looked as it always did: her queen size bed, on the left side of the room, with simple, light-colored linen and an impressive amount of pillows (her Mum had once asked her if she still had room to sleep in there, but given the 2-hour silence treatment she had received afterward, had decided to not bring it up again); her ever growing collection of books was mostly lined up in the 2 bookcases on the opposing wall, but some of them were littered across the other flat surfaces of the room - a couple on the nightstand next to her bed, a few more on her desk and even one in the window seat.

She had specifically requested that window seat when her parents redid her room, some five years prior, along with the queen bed and the dark red curtains. Her parents thought a cream, somewhat golden color for the walls would go well the curtains and she was more than glad to be rid of the very light pink walls her room had before (really, just because she was a girl did not mean she liked pink - what had her parents been thinking?!).

Reluctantly and still wondering what train they were supposed to catch (her Dad loved to drive, what would today be any different?), she got out of bed with plans to have a look out the window, but before she made it there, her small foot collided with a very big and seemingly, very heavy object on the floor.

'Sweetheart, you don't want to be late on the first day at your new school!', another voice came from outside her door. Hermione was throwing confused glances between the door and the offending object on the floor, which she had managed to identify as her trunk - seriously, what did wizards have against suitcases?! - and then what her Dad said finally clicked into place - today was the day she was starting at Hogwarts! The look on her face was changing from confused to joyful to somewhat mischievous in a matter of seconds while she thought 'This is going to be fun'.

Outside her room, her parents were beginning to get a bit worried. Their daughter had never liked mornings, but had always managed to wake up when she wanted to without even needing an alarm clock. Not to mention the fact that she had been overly enthusiastic about going away to school the day before, they had honestly expected her to fret around the house at about seven or eight in the morning, throwing them accusing glares and saying they were going to make her late on the first day of school.

'Are you feeling ok?', her Mum asked as she opened the door. One look at the expression on her daughter's face and she felt herself relax.

'Oh, just fine. I was just going over everything I need again, in case I had forgotten something', Hermione answered with a smile that lit up her face.

* * *

One of the reasons Ron Weasley had desperately wanted for him to finally start school was not the fact that he would finally be able to use his wand. Although he and his family were Purebloods, they did not enjoy the perks or benefits of the wealthy Purebloods - him and his brothers and sister could not use their wands outside of school. No, the reason was completely different.

It was quietness that he wanted. Not during the day or evenings, obviously. No one would think that a castle filled with hundreds of teenagers would be quiet. He did not even think he would like that. But in the mornings.. that was a whole different story.

For reasons he never really understood, all his older siblings had come out as morning people. The gleeful, chirpy, obnoxious kind of morning people. And so bloody loud. Both him and his younger sister were perfectly happy to wreak havoc, but only after a decent amount of time had passed since they had woken up and most certainly after having breakfast. Since an early age, he had hoped his roommates at boarding school will resemble him and prefer to speak little before food was in their systems, or none at all.

To top it all, this was the morning when Mum had to get 5 adolescents ready and aboard the train which would take them to school. And of course, no one was ready - no one except his sister, who would not be joining them on the train, thus having nothing to prepare besides herself. She was unusually quiet today, but he guessed it was because she felt left behind - the youngest of the Weasley siblings would be starting school a year from now, which made her miserable for a variety of reasons, including spending the next 10 months with mostly just her Mum around. Ron did not envy that.

He was being yelled at by his Mum again, to 'hurry up with that breakfast and get your trunk ready!', and watching the twins with an unreadable expression. He had just decided to ignore the yelling in favor of the waffles sitting in his plate, given that his trunk just happened to be completely packed, when Ginny's voice broke him out of his thoughts.

'Why are you looking at them like that? You'll be seeing plenty of them at school. Unlike me.'

Ron guessed that his sister was really more affected about them leaving than she was letting on. He understood that better now and thought about it for a few seconds, but in the end decided that he did not want anything to disturb his mood. This was about a good day and good things in his life. Though he had to admit, it was a bit of a weird dream.

* * *

Draco had forgotten about the trips his Father took to muggle London on occasion. 'For privacy', he said. As a young child, Draco did not really understand what could be so important about the meetings his Father was having that required such a level of privacy, given how much he despised Muggles. His displeasure at being in such close proximity to them was evident on the man's face and in the way he always cast a cleaning charm on himself every time one of them passed them by too close or accidentally touched him.

One of these meetings was the reason Draco found himself walking through King's Cross alongside Lucius. He was looking around while his trunk was following them of its own accord. He noticed a scrawny boy, some distance away, pushing a cart piled with a trunk and a cage containing a.. white owl? But he looked too young, too small to be attending Hogwarts yet. Could that be ... ?

'Father, do you know who that dark-haired boy to our left is?' he asked. Although the place was crowded, he knew that his father would know where to look, even without him pointing directly at the kid ('Malfoys do not point!'). They both watched as the boy in question approached a mass of ginger-haired people. The Weasleys, for sure - that hair would be recognizable anywhere, quite like their own.

'It is a possibility that we are looking at Harry Potter, son. Though, I had not realized he would be in the same year as you.' He seemed to consider something for a few moments before adding, 'You should try and make friends with him.'

'Of course, Father', Draco said with an unreadable smile tugging at his lips. Lucius was thinking how it was possible that his eleven year old son already had an expression he couldn't read, while the Weasley clan and an overly enthusiastic Harry Potter crossed the barrier into Platform 9 3/4. He and his wife had decided several days prior that it would be better for Draco to go the platform on his own, each considering this for different reasons. Narcissa had said that it would not be good for the boy to go there with his father, who had stood trial for being be a Death Eater, while Lucius himself just wanted the boy have a bit of independence. Draco had been too happy to finally start school to argue with any of them. Thus, with a pat on the shoulder ('Malfoys do not engage in public displays of affection!'), Draco was sent to the barrier and through.

Once there, he made a beeline for his friends, Greg Goyle and Vincent Crabbe, without a look back or around.

* * *

Harry Potter was having a good day. A very good day, indeed. That was clear to anyone whose eyes set upon him - that smile simply would not leave his face, his eyes seemed to be gleaming behind his spectacles and it was like he could not stand still.

If anyone had been watching him, they would have noticed that most his behavior had started the moment he set eyes on the Weasleys. Not just because they were wizards, just like himself (that was pretty obvious, due the trunks they were carrying which were similar to his own). But because the moment he asked for help, the mother had jumped at the chance to be there for him. Some people are simply capable of loving more than others, and some people just have enough love to give for people outside their family. It was obvious that was the case for Molly Weasley, mother of seven, and it was just what Harry needed. Abused and, if lucky, neglected, by his relatives and foster parents, with no friends to speak of, Harry Potter was ready to start a new life with new people in it on September 1st, 1991.

He gratefully accepted the help and advice from Molly, as well as the jokes and bantering from the siblings. The youngest, Ginny, was quiet and Ron seemed to not know how to act around him. But both boys were eager for friendship, a real, life-long friendship, so they tried to put awkwardness aside, boarded the train together and waved at the two remaining redheads on the platform.

* * *

She was enjoying herself. Much more than she had thought it was possible. She had talked to many other students, slightly annoying some of them with all the facts she had learned from Hogwarts: A History. Her memory was remarkable, everyone she had ever met had praised and marveled at it, so things she had read from a book that had become her favorite came easily to the front of her mind and out of her mouth. She was just in the middle of a rant about some obscure school rule, set sometime around the 1600s, when a chubby boy with a round face and teeth to rival her own opened the door to the compartment and asked about a toad.

She was looking at him with big eyes, cut short in the middle of her explanation, when someone asked the boy who he was and the kid answered with a small voice, 'Neville Longbottom'. She was on her feet in an instant.

'No, we haven't seen your toad, but I can help you find it, if you want?', she said with a hopeful smile.

'If it's not too much of a bother..', Neville replied with a hint of guilt in his voice.

She heard a relieved sigh as she was closing the door, and moved to go in one direction of the train, just like she knew where she was going.

* * *

Greg and Vincent weren't bad people. They were just kids, after all. Not the brightest of the bunch, but still fun to be around. He assumed he liked their company for two reasons: first, because they had known each other since they were infants, quite literally. Their fathers had been part of the same organization and the boys had spent lots of time at the Manor playing, while the heads of families were engaged in business.

The second reason was not as pleasant as the first. The Crabbes and the Goyles did not have Manors, or estates for that matter. The balance of their Gringotts accounts would have made Draco classify them as 'poor', and while they weren't quite at the Weasley's level, they were still quite a lot behind the Malfoys. That had made the heads of the families to look at Malfoy Sr as a leader, or at least some kind of boss. This relationship of sorts, along with the implied respect, had transferred to the children in time and had made Greg and Vincent to listen to anything Draco said, plain and simple.

He had tried to not do that today, give them orders and such. Mostly, because he had wanted to enjoy their company, but also because, as far as the most of the students on the Express were concerned, today they were equals. They were all children, about to start their magical education. But their lack of intellect and ability to form a coherent thought on their own was grating on his nerves. Badly.

He hadn't said anything for over ten minutes and so, neither had they. He was looking between Vincent who was casually picking his nose and Greg, who seemed endlessly entertained by a spring in the cushions that kept bouncing back after being pressed and then released. His patience with them was just about meet its end, when one of them (he wasn't even sure which) finally uttered a sentence.

'How about we take a walk around the train?'

Draco jumped out of his seat and was through the door without a word. He went straight towards to the back of the train. He didn't look in any of the compartments until the last carriage, where he found what he was looking for. The raven-haired boy from the train station, who looked too small and too thin to be eleven. On the seat in front of him was the youngest Weasley brother and a mass of brown, untameable curls was facing away from the door. They did not appear to be talking much, or really, at all. They were just looking awkwardly at each other, without even noticing the three people looking at them through the door's glass. He remembered them being.. chattier? Friendlier to each other? Interesting.

'A weasel and .. Potter?' one of his lackeys asked (he was about 90% sure it was Greg who spoke this time).

'Yes', he tried to drawl, but his excitement got in the way and it came out more of a squeak. 'Let's go in and say hello, shall we?'

* * *

Neville had insisted they look everywhere and ask everyone about his toad. They finally made it to Ron and Harry's compartment, about one hour after they started looking. They found Trevor and Neville had left them alone in order to put him back into his cage. That had been almost 30 minutes ago. Since then, neither of the three had said much, except for introductions and a few humdrum questions and answers. Not a single word had been uttered for the last 10 minutes or so and she was about 30 seconds away of saying something she might regret, when the door was slid open. She turned around to see a very blond and very pale boy was standing in the door frame, flanked by what she would call bookends, and her breath caught in her throat.

'Dra-', she began in a soft voice, but instantly shut her mouth and turned her head. It had been said so quiet, she was sure that no one had heard her. The blond boy considered her for a moment and then instructed the ones that were accompanying him, 'This is personal' and shut the door behind him.

Hermione had been looking down at her feet, inwardly blaming herself for the slip. She knew she would be seeing Ron and Harry on the train, and she was so excited she had almost forgotten about everyone else. She had been waiting for a reason to go look for them, when Neville had shown up, asking for help. She had almost fled to where she knew they would be and had been trying to ease them into talking since she found them. Then Draco had waltzed in and all her carefully considered ideas of starting up conversation had flown out the window. When she heard the door click shut, all her anger got redirected at Draco.

'You can't do that!'

'Do what?', confusion all over his voice.

'Send them away like that! That's not how things happened and I don't appreciate you coming in here, messing up my dream!'

'I beg your pardon, what do you mean _your dream_? This is my dream!'

Two even more confused and a bit loud voices were added to the conversation at the same time.

'Huh?'

'What?!'

* * *

Harry had been having a very good day. He had met the Weasleys (well, most of them), and had seated himself on the express facing Ron. Sure, they weren't talking as much as he had hoped, but he had promised himself he would make the most of this so he wasn't giving up.

When the bushy-haired witch had entered their compartment, he had been lost for words. It was too much, trying to talk to both of his now child friends. He had been scrambling for things to say when the aristocratic boy he had met at Madam Malkin's a while back, all grace and manners, had made his presence known. He'd heard a gasp and something unintelligible being said from somewhere near where he stood, and then he had dismissed his friends and closed the door.

He cared for the two Gryffindors next to him more he could ever put into words, and although he and Ron had been through some rough patches, he had always been afraid that Hermione would be the one to leave him behind. Perhaps it was because they were of different genders, and she had been the first woman or girl to show him love. Perhaps it was because she had entered their friendship just a bit later. Perhaps he would never be rid of that particular fear. He was still somewhat unfazed by the appearance of Draco (it was bound to happen, anyway) when a quick exchange of words between her and the blond boy broke him out of this reverie and made him choke out a very undignified 'Huh?'.

His mind rushed with possibilities and questions. He started looking at the only witch in there, because she was the most likely to have answers to those questions. But which question to ask first? He was contemplating just that when Ron's voice made his mind go blank for the second time in as many minutes.

* * *

Ron was pretty sure Hermione had started saying Draco's name when he had opened the door. But how could that be? After hearing them banter like they had been chums for years, his heart started racing so fast he was sure he was going to pass out. When he thought he might have control of his voice, he tried asking a question, but could only manage one word. Yet, that one word made all of them go silent.

* * *

Hermione looked first at Ron and then at Harry. She loved them dearly and they all knew they could be considered slow compared to her. She had hoped that her subconscious would have made them a tad brighter and a bit more coherent than they were in real life. This dream she was having was really not living up to the expectations, even though it must have been the longest dream she ever had. At that point she looked at Harry a bit more closely. Had she been watching a movie, she would have found that expression hilarious. A kid that was trying too hard to be taken seriously, that was copying the look of a grown up who had been looking skeptical and afraid at the same time. In this set of circumstances, though, it looked just wrong on the face of an eleven year old, who was not quite a teenager yet. Harry was looking back at her through narrowed eyes, his pupils slightly dilated and one eyebrow going into his hairline. His glasses had glided down his nose a bit and he hadn't bother to push them back up. They were still engaged in this battle of stares when Ron's reticent voice, saying one word, made them look around at the other two occupants of the room.

The four friends were looking at each other, while that one word kept ringing in all their ears. All their faces were changing expressions, so many and so fast, one would think they were practicing for a very complex and very difficult play. Confusion, happiness, guilt, love, fear, friendship, all in a matter of seconds. At last, pure, unadulterated hope was etched on all their faces. Ron cleared his throat and tried again.

'Mione?..'


	2. Chapter 2 - Hope

\- 'Mione?..'

She jumped out of her seat directly into Ron's open arms. She was hugging the life out of him, while Harry passed them and went for a handshake and half hug with Draco. When they let go, Draco turned and started casting: a Notice-Me-Not charm on the door, a silencing ward around the compartment and he was just about to cast a spell for tinting the windows when he suddenly felt extremely light-headed. As Harry and Ron noticed him swaying, they caught him and deposited him on one of the seats.

'You all right, mate?'

'Not sure, I feel exhausted.. Wait a minute, why did two bloody spells take that much out of me?!'

'Oh.. ' All eyes were now on Hermione. 'That's probably the extent of your magical core. While the charm wasn't that complicated or taxing, warding the entire place is an impressive feat for a 12-year old. Care to explain how come you are not passed out?'

He couldn't contain the smugness in his voice. 'Well, being a Malfoy has its benefits..'

'Oh, shut it! I think we have more important matters to discuss at this point.' Ron's comment brought all eyes on Hermione again.

'Right. So.. are we really here?'

'Sure seems that way.'

'But.. How?! Mione, I thought the effects of that potion should have been completely different.'

'Well, they were supposed to be.' The frown on her faced was mirrored on everyone else as they remembered what they had planned to achieve. She had learned long ago that when her mind was racing with thoughts and ideas, it was best to air them out and let the guys help with sorting them. 'The book said, when brewed correctly, you take the potion, then go to sleep and.. you know. It did not mention any sort of coma, magical or not. So, that rules out any collective dreams. The ingredients you guys picked up were just as described, and between myself and Draco, there was no way we could have botched the brewing. By all means, this simply should not have happened.'

'But it has. So, what? Some higher force decided to just send us back? What for?' Draco's voice was filled with exasperation. He had had so many outer forces meddle with his life, starting with his parents and the magical world, and ending with muggles. Some unknown entity taking yet another decision out of his hands was just the cherry on top.

'Perhaps to fix what we did wrong last time.' Those were Harry's first words that added into a sentence since Draco had entered the compartment. The look he was sporting was once again unbecoming of his age. Guilt and sorrow were etched on his face while he was thinking of all the friends they had lost, all the other lives affected by his choices and what he thought were his mistakes. The many faces of those who had died were running in front of his eyes, but not the smiling and gentle faces he had known before the Battle, or even the serious and concerned faces of the war that followed. It was the scarred and the bloody, the cold unmoving eyes, the very dead faces of the bodies which had once been the friends and families of the four of them.

'Fix what we did wrong? Harry, we can't just _fix_ everything..'

'That's exactly what we'll do. I'm not sure how yet, but we have until we reach Hogsmeade to come up with some sort of plan, even if it's a short-sighted one. The four of us, we can do it. We can change the outcome, we can make it so we don't end up isolated, in the middle of nowhere, taking that fucking potion.'

'The four of us? Is there any chance it could be the five of us?'

Draco's hope was crushed by Hermione's gentle voice. 'I'm sorry, but I don't think so. Even with this thing that wasn't supposed to happen, chances that she was sent back with us are too small. It was only us who took the potion, she was long gone before that.' She then reached for Draco and hugged him tight, while his eyes were no longer focused and getting cloudy with tears. Sometime after the Battle, he had realized that showing emotion was not necessarily a sign of weakness. While his companions had learned to let actions speak more than words, he had learned that sharing a burden really did make it easier. With a final squeeze, he let her go and looked around. Of course he wasn't the only one affected, all three of them had had a glimmer of hope in their eyes before Mione's rationality had put it out.

'Alright, then. Let's plan. Everyone, throw your ideas out there.' Hermione was already going through her bag for pen and a small notebook - they were just so much easier to use than quills, ink and parchment.

Though the years of war had changed each of them fundamentally, the most visible one had been within Ron. He had become accustomed to listening and planning before lunging head first into something and now served as the most effective voice of reason for Harry. While planning had been drilled into him by Hermione and the loss of people around them, Draco had been the one to give enough ideas to make him realize everyone's input was valuable, including his own. Thus, Ron was first to suggest something. 'Well, I think that some things might be easier to do if we were all in the same house. We already know from Harry you can ask the Hat to put you in one of the houses, why don't we all go to Gryffindor? Or Ravenclaw? One could call all of us _wise beyond our years_.'

'I don't think the Hat would put me in Gryffindor, even now. Or that I would want to go there.' There was no malice behind the words, and Hermione gave him a playful shove.

'Actually, I think we should keep our Houses.'

'And I agree with Harry'. Hermione was quick to offer an explanation. 'One thing that made all of us lose so much last time was how segregated we were. Most of the people fighting against Tom were former Gryffindors, with a handful of Huflepuffs and Ravenclaws thrown in. Draco, you and your mum were the only Slytherins to openly go against him, everyone else either joined him or did their best to remain neutral. While it will be easier to get Puffs and Claws to side with us, there is no way any of the Snakes will listen to us without you there. Not to mention, I think there are some people you might not want to fight against.'

Draco's thoughts went to Greg and Vincent. While not the brightest of the bunch, they were by no means evil and did not deserve the cruel and painful deaths their past (future?) selves endured. Then there were Pansy and Theo, who were just like he had been - young, impressionable and taught since birth they were superior by nature. The Zabinis and Greengrasses had maintained a non-commital stance, but that hadn't been of much help in the Great War.

'True. One of the Patils was in Ravenclaw, right? That gives you an in.'

'Luna starts next year, too.'

'Hermione could start a study group of some sort. I think only muggleborns and half bloods would attend it, but that's just for this year. Next year, you could tutor some first years and so on. And I could try to get on the Quidditch team again, although we'll need to come up with something else to get McGonagall's attention this time.' A small smile formed as he was thinking of Neville and his Remeberall.

Ron was thinking of Cedric and whether he was Captain yet or not, when he felt his pocket move. He realized how lucky they were the bloody rat slept so much. How the hell could they forget about him?

'Mione, my pet isn't feeling very well and the guy at the Menagerie suggested it should rest as much as possible - could I trouble you with a sleeping spell?' One Somnio later and all them were left looking at a soundly sleeping Animagus. Going through a lengthy war, they had all left behind the belief that one should not kill their enemies. Thus, the only thing holding Harry back from firing an Avada at Peter's transformed body was thinking of his godfather.

'Sirius is wasting away in Azkaban and we are debating which House we want to be sorted in.'

Everyone realized that while it was important to tackle the problem of how to get more people in the fight against Voldemort, some were in need of assistance at the very moment - people who had been lost to them before the fight against the evil old cot had really began.

'Ok - new list. Who we need to focus on starting now. First up, Sirius and obviously, Remus. Next?'

'Albus.'

Some time after the Battle, they had managed to get Dumbledore's portrait out of Hogwarts. Seeing the destruction around himself, he had admitted to being wrong on many occasions. His biggest fault, in his own words, was that he had tried to control and manipulate everyone around him to do as he thought was best, without sharing information or listening to advice. 'If I were ever given a second chance, I would do it all differently'. The meddling Headmaster had just been given a second chance, he just did not know it yet.

Writing down his name, Hermione voiced yet another concern, 'What do we tell him? How much? When?'

'Let's focus on the task at hand. I have two more names for that list - Severus. And my father.' The silence that followed was caused by many things, and not all of them good, but Snape and Lucius Malfoy's names were quickly jotted down next to the others. They all knew what their Potions professor had endured at the hands of not one, but two very powerful and manipulative wizards. With both of them thinking they were fighting for the greater good, it had left the four teens/battle-hardened adults/children-once-more, with a deep appreciation for Severus and his commitment to amending past wrongs.

Draco's father.. Well, he was a whole different story. The love he had for and from his family was unquestionable, but the Gryffindors all remembered clearly Hermione's screams while she was tortured under his roof. Years later, Draco had explained how the six or so months spent in Azkaban had transformed the once imposing wizard into a shadow of his former self, an unstable man resembling Bellatrix in many ways. What had remained unclear was whether the devotion for his loved ones would have won over the one for Voldemort, had he been presented with options earlier on. The blond was thinking of his father eyes from that morning, devoid of all the madness and filled with pride. He hadn't dwelled on that, it was a dream, of course he would see Father in the version he had loved and admired most. But now, an inkling of hope was surging through his heart - there was a possibility to turn him, to save him... It would take work and they would have to start fast, but the blond was sure he had the others' support, just as sure as he was he would strike the man down if he turned out the same as in the previous timeline.

They spent the rest of the ride thinking of names and whether those people were in need of immediate attention. That soon turned into three lists; the first one contained only Sirius, Remus, Albus, Severus and Lucius. The second started with Pettigrew and names like Umbridge, Carrow and Avery quickly followed. The third list was never really written down; it was their families, their friends, their loved ones: the Weasleys, Cedric, Pansy and Theo, Neville, Luna, Dean and Seamus, Collin and Dennis, Lavender, the Patil twins, Narcissa, Tonks and her parents, McGonagall, Mad-Eye and the rest of the Order.. They had all suffered and ultimately died. An unspoken agreement had been reached - each of the four would do their best to prevent those horrors from happening again and to protect those around them.

As the train approached Hogwarts, they changed in their school robes. Before leaving the train, Ron felt the need to say something.

'Guys, I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but I feel a bit off about all of this. It's not I don't want be here, I'm happy to see and talk to you again, without some sort of impending threat hanging above our heads. But.. It's like we've been sent on a mission without any information. Just go out there and.. '

'Try again.'

'And hope it turns out better than last time.'

Four rather subdued children went out on the platform and made their way to the giant man calling for the first years.

* * *

Harry thought it had been difficult to lay eyes on Hagrid knowing it was really him. The half-giant's big smile and deep voice had sent shivers down his spine. A flash of his beard, matted with blood and dirt while laying in the rubble that had once been the stairs to the castle's entrance, and Harry felt himself go weak in the knees. He was used to seeing death and destruction, they all were, but it didn't hurt any less - one just learned to deal with it. He got in one of boats and kept his head down, even as his peers marveled at the sight of Hogwarts, untouched by war and misery, standing in all of her glory and overlooking the lake.

He was lost in his thoughts when he felt a tingling, like a low vibration tuning itself to him. He realized it was the castle herself, the magic within the walls and the grounds, welcoming the students. He started calming down and finally looked up. The light from thousands of candles lighted up what seemed like all of the windows - the Astronomy and Gryffindor towers, the Great Hall and its entrance. Dozens of carriages were slowly making their way along the paved path, at the end of which the first students to arrive were happily greeting each other. The four heads of Houses were standing at the top of the stairs, each wearing their signature look: McGonagall was standing straight, looking all stern with her hands crossed in front of her; greasy hair, an air of superiority mixed with a hint of disgust portrayed Snape; Flitwick was giving a small smile and nod to some of the teenagers while Sprout was grinning and waving to a group that were just climbing down from a carriage.

The sky was clear, the moon and stars lighting up the landscape. It was all reflected in the water's calm surface, making the whole scene look like a painting. Or a memory of better times. Or a dream. Was it a dream? No, they had already established it was very much real. All he was seeing was real as possible - just as his love for the other three, just as the other feeling bubbling up inside him. That feeling that made the memories just a bit more bearable, the sight of his classmates a little easier to take.

Hope.

Hope that this time, things will be different. Hope that loss was a thing of the past. Hope that Draco will not be alone anymore. Hope that they all got to grow old this time. Hope that when life left the eyes of the older ones, it would not be because of a dark curse. Hope that Hogwarts will never lose the energy he was now feeling all around him, that the laughter will not die out, to be replaced with sighs, crying and screaming, and then silence. Hope it would turn out better.

He got out of the boat with a grin plastered on his face, confusing the hell out of Hermione and Ron, who had been eyeing him since leaving the platform. He entered the Hall with the same grin, only for it to vanish in a matter of seconds. Oh no, seeing Hagrid had been easy. After all, he had seen him just this morning. No, seeing everyone in here, remembering the last time he'd seen them and _not_ break down - this was the fucking difficult part.

* * *

The head of Gryffindor was reading the names of first years, one by one, waiting for each of them to get sorted. She reached 'Granger, Hermione *' and little frown crossed her features. While the brunette took her seat and put the Sorting Hat on her head, the professor's wheels started spinning.

The list she has holding was a partial copy of the one Albus had in his office. Every time a magical child was born, his or her name was added to the list. At the beginning of each summer, a charm would replicate the names of all the children that were supposed to start school in the following year. The small asterisk was something she had added many years ago, indicating the child's name had changed since June 1st until September 1st - something that did not happen often, but she rather preferred to not draw attention to that fact in front of the entire school. A change in name could mean a number of things, especially when concerning muggleborns: a divorce, an adoption, loss of guardians - each of those could have been a happy occasion for some of the other children she had visited over the years, but in Hermione's case, none would be such. She was part of a loving, caring family, one without biases toward magic, so that question stood, 'What could have happened in the three months passed to warrant the young witch's change in name?' Different scenarios had been going through her head for several minutes, before noticing the Hat had not finished sorting the brunette in question. She was a very bright kid with a pure heart, surely it should not require this much time to decide between two houses?! Inwardly, she was beginning to doubt the functioning of the ancient magical artifact, while maintaining a serious outer demeanor. Finally, after ten full minutes of what she assumed had been deliberations, Hermione smiled, looking pleased with herself and the Hat announced, unenthusiastically 'Gryffindor.'

'Interesting', Minerva thought. She continued reading names and waiting for each of them to be sorted ('Of course Malfoy would go to Slytherin, the Hat barely touched his head before announcing it!') until she reached another asterisk. 'Potter, Harry *' was perhaps, not such a shock, but still unexpected - had the Dursleys finally adopted him? Unlikely. Something was not right - perhaps the Headmaster had decided to tweak the charms a bit? It would not be the first time, although she had repeatedly asked him to stop doing it. Harry made his way to the lions' table and the sorting continued. When she reached 'Weasley, Ronald *', she felt her temper flare.

'That's it! I'm going to kill Albus!'

* * *

Once all of the first years had been sorted and seated, the food appeared on the table. Draco filled his plate with some pork and steamed veggies, fondly thinking of Hermione's insistence to have meals as balanced as possible. He chanced a look across the Hall at his friends and was once hit by Harry's childish appearance. As a full grown man, he had been imposing, but not by stature. Strong, lean, but not very tall, perhaps an inch or two taller than Hermione - genetics dictated he should have stood at 5'11'', but he had barely reached 5'6''. Seeing him now, looking at least two years younger than his peers, Draco finally realized the extent of Dursleys' treatment of him. Malnourishment and abuse could probably be hidden in some cases, but this? How had no one noticed before? How hadn't he?

Guilt flooded him, remembering his teenage years and the malicious things he had said. He had taunted Hermione because of her blood status and Ron because of his family's material situation. That had been bad enough. But Harry.. He had said some nasty shit about his family, and Harry had protected them, even when he was treated worse than Draco's house elves. Just one more thing that had to be set straight. Damn it, there were so many things to do!

With a frustrated sigh, he turned to his plate and started eating. They would start working on all of those tomorrow. Today had been taxing enough.

'Hey, Draco! Where'd you disappear to earlier? Did you spend the entire ride with those three?'

Guess we're starting today. Theo's question made him realize they had not decided how to present their friendship to the world. But since he was the one instigating all the trouble last time, perhaps it wouldn't be much of a problem this time.

'Yes. What of it?'

'Well, a Weasel, a mudblood and Potter. Must not have been a very fun ride - why did you stick around?'

Of course. Theo had the same upbringing as him, that meant Ron's family were blood traitors, Harry was the ultimate enemy and since no one had heard of Mione's last name before, she was classified as 'mudblood' by default.

'Father asked me to befriend Potter - for what purpose, I do not know. But a good son does not question his Father. I recognized the Weasley hair immediately, but it took a few minutes before formal introductions were made and I realized the heritage of the girl. By that point, it was quite clear the other one valued their presence, I could not insult them and miss the chance I had. Father would have been severely disappointed in such childish antics.'

It presented a good (and real!) excuse for spending time with the Golden Trio, and all without uttering a single insult. Being the Slytherin leader for his year should prove itself easier to accomplish this time around.

* * *

Hermione was enjoying her treacle tart and pumpkin juice while the boys were getting re-acquainted with their housemates. She thought again of her 'sorting'.

 _'What?! Who are you and why are you already sorted?'_

 _'I...'_

 _'And why does a 12-year-old have 40 years worth of memories? What... ?'_

 _She was feeling the Hat sift through her memories and her experiences, not unlike a Legilimency probe. Definitely not a fun ride._

 _'Right. Well, regardless of how you came to be here, I refuse to sort you. There's a reason it's done when the children are 11 or 12, you know? Young enough to start having their own ideas about the world, but not enough experience to taint those ideas. Where am I supposed to put you now?'_

 _'In all honesty, I never thought about it like that. But, can't you just say Gryffindor out loud, since I was already sorted there?'_

 _'You mean, pretend to sort you? Like some botched-up magical experiment?'_

 _Great, he's proud._

 _'You know, Godric himself created me'._

 _Excuse me, ancient and proud._

 _'That's rude. And yes, I can hear your thoughts. How do you think I communicate with those I sort?'_

 _Ok, who the hell thought it was a good idea to make a hat self-aware and self-conscious?_

 _'I told you, Godric.'_

 _'Right. Ugh, listen. We did not choose to come back. W- '_

 _'We? Who's we?'_

 _'You'll see. The point is, I'm pretty sure we were sent back to undo some wrongs, prevent all the shit you just saw inside my head.'_

 _'Nasty language for a young lady such as yourself.'_

 _'How about for a woman that has literally been through hell?'_

 _'Fair point. Fine, we'll do it your way. How many others?'_

 _'Three.'_

 _'So be it. Gryffindor.'_

The theory behind creating a powerful object such as the Sorting Hat said that the maker will always leave a bit of himself behind. The more powerful or long-lived the object, the more it will resemble its creator. Given the Hat had been doing a decent job sorting people for hundreds of years.. she had basically had an argument with Godric and won. Today had been a good day, indeed.


End file.
